


Chekhov Gives Up

by donutsweeper



Category: The Usual Suspects (1995)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Devils, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Games, Possession, Psychic Abilities, Supernatural Elements, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 13:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17080868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: Five ways "The Usual Suspects" couldn't (and wouldn't) have ended and the one way it probably didn't, but might have.





	Chekhov Gives Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/gifts).



> A Yuletide treat for Lannamichaels, who hopefully was serious when she asked for this.

**It wouldn't have ended like this….**

The conversation, if you could call it that, had been going on for the better part of an hour. Agent Kujan asked his questions, demanding the answers that fit the picture he'd already painted in his mind. According to Kujan's worldview Dean Keaton was a criminal mastermind and Verbal Kint was a lackey, a hapless cripple who'd only managed to survive the massacre because someone was needed to be a witness to the whole thing and he fit the bill.

Agent Kujan was both very, very wrong and somewhat, sort of right.

Verbal Kint was a lackey, that was true. And he had been allowed to live in order to ensure the events on the pier had been told in a certain way to the people who'd needed to hear them, but Dean Keaton wasn't a criminal mastermind. No, he was much more than that.

Keaton was a powerful psychic and Kint a mere puppet.

Every word that came out of Kint's mouth in that police station only did so because Keaton allowed it and each and every single one of them had been carefully crafted by Keaton himself before being spoken aloud. Kint reacted as Keaton wished him to react and did no more, and no less, than what his master ordered him to.

And Kujan was none the wiser.

Keaton had Kint act defiant when it suited him, break down when it was needed, give just the right amount of detail and add the perfect little asides so that it all felt natural; that it appeared that Kint was just some petty little criminal caught up in a mess much bigger than him after being involved in something he had been totally unprepared for.

It was easy.

So very, very easy.

The whole Keyser Söze thing had been an unexpected surprise. It wasn't a name Keaton had ever even heard before he'd used his powers to listen in on Baer and Kujan discussing the man (and the myth of the man) in the other room, but it added the perfect pièce de résistance to the whole damn thing. 

Once this little matter here was finished up Keaton would have to track down this Söze person. If he was a person. It would be interesting to see if he was. Or if he was something more.

 

**or like this….**

Kujan glared at Verbal, sneering, "Why did he want you to live?" and then continued to spit out what he considered hateful, terrible things about both Keaton and Verbal but the man was an idiot and didn't have the first clue about what he was talking about. He claimed Keaton wasn't, and had never been, Verbal's friend and that a man like that didn't even have any friends. It was stupid, but what else did you expect from cops? Then Kujan actually had the audacity to declare that Keaton was actually Söze and Verbal couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. 

"That's what you think, Agent Kujan? Really? That Dean Keaton is Keyser Söze?" He could barely get the words out, he was laughing so hard.

That threw Kujan for a loop, when the sniveling, whimpering stupid cripple suddenly started laughing and didn't stop. To give him credit, Kujan did try to rally and figure out where he misstepped, but Verbal was done playing patsy. 

"We were lovers, Agent Kujan. Lovers. And not just the once-off in the men's room kind of lovers. We shared everything, _everything,_ with each other and have for years. His work? We shared that. Edie? Yeah, we shared her too. There wasn't a _thing_ about Dean Keaton that I didn't know and I can tell you, with one hundred percent certainty that Dean Keaton was not Keyser Söze. Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe I posted twenty minutes ago." 

As Verbal stood and headed to the door Kujan reached out, like he was going to try to grab him and try to physically keep him there, but stopped himself. He went for the parting shot of, "He's Söze, you know he is, he was just using you. You step out that door you're a dead man. Keaton, Söze, whatever he's calling himself will get you and you're deluding yourself if you think otherwise," instead.

Verbal just kept walking, his laughter echoing behind him.

 

**and there's no way it would have ended like this….**

It was an interrogation more than an interview but that didn't bother the one currently known as Verbal Kint in the slightest. He'd faced men tougher than David Kujan before- much, much tougher. To be fair, not all of them were still (or ever had been) human, which put Kujan at a disadvantage, but he wasn't one to hold a creature's species against them. 

Leading the hapless man along the path they'd planned for him was pathetically easy. Sure, planting the scorcher demon in the hospital took a little work - and wasn't that going to be a fun bribe to have to explain away when it was time for the year end tally of the Book - and arranging Metzheiser and Baer to be in the right place at the right time involved a little bit of bribery with the Fae, but once those outside pieces were in play? Kujan jumped from breadcrumb to breadcrumb with barely the slightest of a nudge along the way.

In fact, the most difficult thing was keeping Kint's human guise up for a whole day. The human form was so… distasteful. Why anyone would want to pretend to be one of these bony, meaty creatures when there were so many other options out there was really beyond comprehension. Small minds, smaller aspirations, was the only explanation. The cigarette was nice at least; it almost made the effort of remembering to breathe worth it. (Well, no, it didn't, but purposely inhaling tasty chemical laden smoke in an acceptable social construct? Whoever came up with that was a genius.)

Finally, _finally,_ Kujan put the two and two he was given together to have them equal four and came up with the oh-so-obvious conclusion that Keaton must really be Keyser Söze and that "Kint" was just too dumb to have realized that on his own. Excellent. While the various human law enforcement agencies were chasing that nugget, the idea of the criminal mastermind, the Stone Conclave would be left to finish consolidating their power and be in position to take over everything before humans were any the wiser. 

With luck, he'd even remember to stock up on cigarettes before the final plan came to fruition.

 

**or like this….**

There was a time when he moved from host body to host body at the drop of a hat. If one came along that offered a better opportunity, a fatter larder, a larger bank account it'd be out with the old and in with the new and he'd never look back. It was supposed to be a curse, not having a body of one's own, but that was a pitifully narrow minded way of looking at things.

Yeah, his essence was ripped from his body and yeah, part of the curse was he was supposed to roam the earth for eternity but there was nothing that prevented him from roaming it inside of someone. Okay, it had taken a little trial and error to figure out how to do it so that he damaged the new host body just the right amount so that the original occupant was weakened to the point he could slip in and kick them out but not too much and have the body unable to function once he was in control.

He _might_ have left a trail of bodies behind before he'd mastered the skill. Maybe. Just a few. Dozen.

He'd loved being Dean Keaton. Loved it. Cops had a kind of power that used to be reserved for just the lords of the manor if you knew how to wield it right and bent cops had even more since they didn't let little things like morality and technicalities get in their way. You wanting drugs? As a cop you could get your hands on any kind your little heart could desire. A warm body for a quick fuck? Badge bimbos of all shapes, sizes and sexes would come from near and far to help you out.

Jumping from Keaton to Kint hadn't been the best plan, but with everything going to shit and a slew of nosy agents on his tail? It hadn't been the worst plan either, but Kint wouldn't be worth the ride for the long haul....

Watching Kujan's pathetic attempt at coercion and intimidation was giving him some ideas though. He'd never been a customs agent before.

Could be fun.

 

**and it didn't end like this….**

_Can you believe this asshole?_ Verbal sent to Dean while Kujan was distracted by the bullshit he'd been telling. _You weren't kidding when you said he was biased enough to accept anything that he could use against you._

Verbal could feel more than hear Dean's responding laugh, the little burbling tickle of it up against his breast bone. It was another minute of Verbal figuratively bobbing and weaving before Dean sent, _And to think he thought he was smart enough to take me down._

 _Did you hear him admit it? He straight up said they convicted someone else of the murder they tried to pin on you!_

_Yeah, I heard. Unbelievable. Working on something like that behind the scenes is one thing, but actually admitting it? That's just sloppy. A man that sloppy has no right to be wearing a badge._

_Well, if he keeps up like this and buys everything we're selling he won't be wearing it for much longer._

Verbal paused in his retelling (otherwise known as creative writing exercise) about what happened on the pier at the appropriate point and Kujan jumped in as they'd expected he would, prodding, pushing, all but screaming in Verbal's face, "No more stalling! You know what I'm getting at!" 

As planned, Verbal pretended to cower, to quake in fear. In truth it was all he could do to stop himself from bursting out laughing then and there because the idiot was buying everything he was selling, hook, line and sinker, but he hid it well. Before long Kujan was completely convinced not only that Keyser Söze wasn't a myth but actually a real person, an arch-criminal that ruled the streets with an iron fist, but also that, as improbable as it was, Dean Keaton and Keyser Söze were the same man.

_What a moron, he’ll be chasing his tail for years trying to prove that._

_No one's going to believe him but that won't stop a man like him; it'll become his white whale. His reputation’s done for,_ Dean sent back as Verbal limped his way down the stairs. _Now hurry up and get your arse outside, I want to get the hell out of this town._

 _I thought you **liked** my ass,_ Verbal teased, knowing Dean would be able to feel it.

_I do, it's a great arse. But I want it with me and out of danger._

_Love you too, Dean_

 

**but there's a chance, an ever so slight chance, it might have ended like this….**

The cripple from New York, as everyone called him, was considered nothing more than a two bit confidence man, but on that particular day he wasn't looking all that confident. He'd already made his statement and cut a deal, but couldn't leave because he hadn't posted yet so as a result there he was, stuck cowering in Rabin's office with Agent Dave Kujan standing over him, figuratively breathing fire as he used every trick in the book to lean on him to get him to talk and to tell Kujan what he wanted to know.

On the average minor criminal, Kujan's tactics might have worked. On many of them, they had.

For the one in that office though? 

Kujan didn't have a chance. 

What Kujan didn't know, what he'd been told but didn't believe, was that there were some men that would never break, never lie down, never bend over for anybody.... Anybody. 

What he hadn't been told was that sometimes, some of those men weren't actually men at all.

The warning couldn't have been any clearer, "It was Keyser Söze, Agent Kujan. I mean, the Devil himself. How do you shoot the Devil in the back? What if you miss?" but, typically, Kujan couldn't see it for what it was. 

After all, the greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist and the Devil was very, very good at what he did.

So he sat and played the game he wanted to play, plucked the strings he'd wanted to pluck, spun the story he'd wanted spin and then, when he was done, moved on.

There was always another game to play, another string to pluck, another story to spin.

          

And like that...

 

he was gone. 


End file.
